
Class ?S 3^^ 

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GopyrightN I 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT; 



The Poems of Leroy Titus Weeks 



— Spend in all things else, 
But of old friends be most miserly. 
— Lowell. 




LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



THE POEMS 



OF 



LEROT TITUS WEEKS 



ff? 



Published by L. T. Weeks 

Sabula, Iowa 

1911 






Copyright, 191 1, 
By L. T. Weeks 



Hfi.ol 

©CI. A 2926 90 



1 



But soft ! sink low ! 

Soft ! let me just murmur, 

And do you wait a moment, you husky- 
noised sea, 

For somewhere I believe I heard my mate 
responding to me. 

— Walt Whitman. 



Contents 








BIRD POEMS 


The Bobolink ....... I 


The Eagle .... 
The Cardinal Bird • 










5 
8 


The Jay Bird . 

The Red-winged Blackbird 










1 1 

»4 


The Chickadee 










17 


The Song of the Sickle . 










20 


In Bohemia . 










22 


Arcadee 










2 4 


Snowing 

Spring .... 

The Maiden Spring 










26 
28 
3° 


DIALECT POEMS 


All 'at 's Out 's in Free 32 


Mah LiT Snowball 










35 


God's Ol' Clothes . 










38 


God's Back Door . 










4 1 


Mother Earth 










42 


FRENCH FORMS 


I'll Paddle in Puddles No More .... 45 


My Heart With the Swallows is On the Wing 




4 8 


The Mute Pipe 
When First We Met 










50 
52 


Deep in the Wood . 
A Rondelet . 










• 53 
54 


The Critic 










55 


Sestina .... 










. 56 



[vii] 



CONTENTS 








SONNETS 


The All-Engulfing Love . 58 


Ego . 












59 


Sisyphus 












60 


The Coming of Sleep 












61 


To My Pipe . 












62 


My Ship Came In . 












63 


THREE SONNETS OF DARKNESS 


I. " And the Darkness Could be Felt" . . 64 


II. Golgotha ..... 




65 


III. " The Cup that My Father Hath Given Me 


, Shal 




I Not Drink It ? " . 




65 


Be Bold 










67 


Eurydice 












6S 


Hawthorne 












69 


Abraham Lincoln . 












70 


Shelley . 












7' 


Alexander Hamilton 












72 


John Wesley . 












73 


Friendship 












74 


To My Mother 












75 


The Sacrifice . 












76 


The North Pole . 










77 


MISCELLANEOUS 


Rizpah .... 


The Tumalum 












84 


My Mountain Maid 












87 


The Mermaid's Song 












89 


Love and I 












92 


Molly Bawn . 












94 


Bimini . 












97 


Serenade 












99 


The Holly Bough . 












101 


Fairy Lullaby 








t 




102 



[ viii ] 



CONTENTS 



What Is It that Tugs at My Heart ? 
Transfiguration , 

Life 

Algomar .... 

I Go, I Go . 

Easter . 

O, Holy Spirit 

God-Kind .... 

Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men 

Trust ..... 

Unto God .... 

The Fountain 

Torch and Burden . 

Loss and Gain 

De Profundis 

The White Stag 

The Ballad of the Young Woodman 

To James Whitcomb Riley 

Faith and Doubt 

To My Friend 

Heartsease and Rue 

A Chigger on Goethe 



104 
107 
1 10 
] 12 
114 
117 
1 20 
1 21 
1 22 
1 24 
125 
126 
129 
131 
J 34 
135 
137 

139 
141 

142 

H3 
144 



SIX QUATRAINS 



The Vision of Dante 

Autumn Leaves 

Amrita . 

The Heart and the Brain 

The Price 

Fate 



H5 

146 

H7 
148 
149 
150 



CLUSTERING ABOUT MRS. WEEKS'S ILLNESS 
AND DEATH 



" Das Ewig Weibliche " 

It is Not Good for Man to be Alone 

Avalon . 

[ix] 



151 
152 

'53 



CONTENTS 








Prayer . . . . . . . . 1 54 


O God, Be Bountiful to Me 










156 


The Angels of Life 










158 


September 1 1, 1910 










J 59 


Behold, I Will Deliver Thee 










160 


Ca Ira . 










161 


Near the Precipice . 










163 


Lovers' Lane . 










165 


The Heart Knoweth Its Own Bitterness 






167 


Despair 










168 



[x] 



Bird Poems 

11 Whar de branch runs google an' de leaves is 
green." 

— Joel Chandler Harris. 



THE BOBOLINK 

"TT TINKLE-wankle-wonkle-winkle, 
V V Tee-a, tee-a, tumple- tinkle," 
So my tipsy bobolink'll 
Carol all the day. 
" Kinkle-rankle-rumple-rinkle," 
Until night with starry twinkle 
Stops his jingling lay. 

Sweet is thy music, O, wild little rover, 
Tumbling glee-drunk into billows of clover ; 
Merry as Bacchus and sweet as Apollo, 
Thy careless foot crumpling the lily's corolla. 
"Fink" "Fink." 

[«] 



THE POEMS OF 

" Inkle-ankle-onkle-kinkle," 
Teasing out the snarl and crinkle 

Of the toiler's brain ; 
From a flaunting rag- weed teeter, 
With intoxicating meter. 
Flows thy silver strain. 

Sweet bird, I slip the yoke of toil ! 

Though weeds may grow and crops may spoil, 

I hold the cares of life at bay 

To spend with thee this matchless day. 

Here in these meadows drowsed with bloom, 

Edged round with lace from spider's loom, 

I sink into the arms of June 

As tired hands unclasp at noon, 

And let my heart be glad and free, 

While bobolink pours over me 

The pearls he drank in drops of clew, 

While stars were out and morn was new. 

" Joy ! jollity ! jubilee ! 
Wirblety, warble, happy me ! 
Rest and dream, O, tired mortal ; 
See ! I push a secret portal, 
And let in a shining throng 
Piping many a happy song. 

[2] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

Pinkle-pankle-punkle-pinkle, " 

So the broken warbles sprinkle 

O'er me till I catch the sweetness 

Of the season's rich completeness, — 

Till my soul escapes its keeper, 

Leaves the earth and soars to deeper 

Vasts of light, by wing unaided, 

Till earth sounds are hushed and faded, 

And upon my inner vision 

Breaks the glow of fields elysian, 

While from hosts of the Eternal 

Comes the symphony supernal, 

And the songs I lisped and stuttered 

Echo back divinely uttered. 

O, the bright transfiguration ! 

And the blest emancipation ! 

Then I sink back to the bird, 

And earth sounds again are heard. 

" Wifey, wifey, come and see 
What I've built for you and me : 
A bridal palace by a willow 
With sky roof and cloud-down pillow ; 
Sun-lace curtains at the door 
And grass carpets on the floor. 
[3] 



THE POEMS OF 

Dreamed it all and built it so 
With ad libs and tremolo 
Of love's hope and joyous glee ; — 
Sung it into life, you see. 
Whisper, whisper, went the breeze ; 
(Coaxed it with my symphonies,) 
Whisper, whisper, went the dew ; 
(Went because I sang of you) 
Whisper, whisper, went the light, — 
Whisper, whisper, all the night, 
Busy elves of earth and air, — 
Whisper, whisper, everywhere, 
Lips that breathe the breath of .life : 
Lo ! all earth in beauty rife 
With love-forms to pleasure you. 
Li nkle-lankle-linkle-linkle, 
Kimple-rimple-rumple-rinkle, 

Fink Fink." 



[4] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



THE EAGLE 



SEE him come like a bolt ! Hear his mighty 
wings rush, 
As he bursts through the cloud with a conquer- 
ing scream ! 
How my heart throbs with joy ! How my eager 
veins flush, 
As he flashes upon me, my own vital dream ! 

See him skee through the air with his wings never 
stirred, 
A thousand feet down, from his home on the 
crag; 
O, stout-hearted challenger ! mountain-nursed bird ! 
Fit emblem art thou for the Bonny blue Flag. 

I have seen thee at battle, and felt my own blood 
Arouse to thine action with wild billowings, 

At the splendid display of trained hardihood 
In a spasm of air and a whirlpool of wings. 
[5] 



THE POEMS OF 

O, bird of my country, 

On the cliff thou art sentry 
To welcome the morning and warn of the night. 

O, bird, how I love thee ! 

And how from above thee, 

About and below thee, 

I feel thee and know thee, — 
Baptized by one hand at the same font of light. 

Together we've drunk at the morning's fresh 

fountain ; 
Together we've fought out the storm on the 
mountain ; 

We've heard it far under 
With rock-rending thunder 
Bumping and butting away in its wrath, 
While lightnings have gleamed as from Vulcan's 

own forge, 
And the water-spout gored its way down to the 
gorge, 

Leaving the mountain scarred deep in its 
path. 

How like to a man art thou, — dauntless in danger ! 
The lord of the land and the sea and the air, 
[6] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

I look in thine eye, O, thou sky-roving ranger - 
The spirit of distance is slumbering there. 

America mounts with thee, higher and higher, 
Proud emblem of victory, soaring afar ; 

Unto the same heights do thy people aspire, 
"Where vision unbounded and liberty are. 



[7] 



THE POEMS OF 



THE CARDINAL BIRD 

THE cardinal bird is a troubadour 
With a song for the young and the gay ; 
With crest aflame in a wild amour, 

From a bush at peep of day, 
He pipes to his mate in tones that lure : 
" First o' May, my dear, first o' May ! " 

The symbol of blossom and summer-time joy, 
He delights both the eye and the ear. 

Sweet Spring appoints him chief envoy, 
And he calls as he passes near, 

" Ahoy, Sir ! ahoy, Sir ! ahoy, Sir ! ahoy ! 

What cheer ? What cheer ? What cheer ? " 

Along about four on a summer morn, 

When the day begins to glow, 
And the dew glints on the knee-high corn, 

Then the birds strike up, ho, ho ! 
And Cardinal plays the leading horn, — 

" Key-note ; key-note ; . . . do, do, do!" 

[8] 






LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

He eyes me askance as I walk about 

His nest in the cedar tree ; 
Sometimes he'll sulk and seem to pout 

With a doleful sigh, " Ah, me ! " 
Or skip here and there with a saucy shout, — 

" Puccachee, you there ! puccachee ! " 

He romps through the trees with a loud guffaw, 

When the eggs begin to pip ; 
You'd think a star had broke in his craw, 

Or he'd been to the sun for a dip ; 
He bids all hands for a mad hurrah — 

" Three cheers ! hip, hip, hip ! " 

His greedy little youngsters gourmandize, 

Till their bills will hardly shut ; 
Grubs, and worms, and bugs, and flies, 

They gobble, and cram, and glut, 
Until you'll hear his chiding cries — 

" Ah, ah, children ! hut, tut, tut ! " 

"Hello, there, hello," he seems to call, 

" What makes mankind so poky ? 
When wood and stream and meadow made call, 

[9] 



THE POEMS OF 

The Lord himself played hookey. 1 
There goes a squirrel along on the wall, 
Lookey ! lookey ! lookey ! " 

Thanks for the hint, my bonny, bonny bird ; 

I saunter off to the wood ; 
My heart with primal heat is stirred, — 

And if I understood 
What the old oaks say, in their secret word, 

I would join their brotherhood. 

1 Mark vi. 31. 



[IO] 






LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



THE JAY BIRD 

HO, there, gay marauder, 
Rummaging the wood ! 
Pompous self-applauder, 
Braggart and defrauder, 
Bold as Robin Hood. 
Saucy imp in white and blue, 
What's your title ? Tell me true. 
Comes the answer sharp, metallic : 
" Smart 

Aleck! 

Smart 

Aleck!" 

Impudent freebooter, 
Pirate of the grove, 
Scoffer and disputer, 
Harasser and looter, 
Everywhere you rove. 
But from out that noisy throat 
Often comes a liquid note : 
" Kickapoo, 

Peek-a-boo, 

Link-a-loo 

Inkle-poo ! " 
[»] 



THE POEMS OF 

Then again he'll whisper — 
Oh, but he is sly ! 
Like a happy vesper, 
You will hear the lisper, 
In the leaves near by, 
Crooning to his nesting mate 
Songs beyond me to translate : 
" Tear, 

Tee, 

Twink, 

Twee ! 
Eoom for two — just you and me ! " 



Here I lie a-soaking 

In the scented shade, 

While he goes a-poking 

All about and joking 

Like a jolly blade. 

Then he'll order round his wife, 

With her busy, busy life : 

"Fill the kittle! 

Fill the kittle ! 

Fill up the kittle ! 
Fill the tea-kittle ! " 

[12] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

Once I watched a robin 
Plastering her nest. 
How she kept a-bobbin' 
In and out, and daubin', 
Shaping with her breast. 
Jay bird came a-dancing by, 
And the dwelling caught his eye 
Sucked the eggs and flew away ! 
" Jay ! 

Jay! 

Jay! 

Jay!" 



[ J 3] 



THE POEMS OF 



THE RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD 

ON a flaunting flag the red-wing swings, 
(" Onk-o-lee ! ") 
And he dips and sways and tilts his wings 
To the rollicking south wind as he sings, 
" Ka-lonk-o-lee ! 
One, two, three, 
Nestlings hid where none can see. 
Ka-lonk-o-lee ! " 

In a button-bush or a tussock deep, 

(" Konk-o-lee ! ") 
Is the sly little nest where his babies sleep, 
While sheltering reeds their vigils keep. 

" Ka-lonk-o-lee ! 

Blithe and free, 
With June and sunshine I agree. 

Ka-lonk-o-lee ! " 

Oh, the Blue is bluer when he comes, 

(" Lonk-a-lee ! ") 
The bee in the maple blossom hums, 
The field and the lark again are chums. 
[14] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

" Ong-lilla-ree ! 
The waking lea 
Is sweet with the breath of Arcady. 
Ong-kulla-ree ! " 

The flags are aflame with his epaulet — 

(" Klong-kulla-ree ! ") 
That sparkle of red on a jacket of jet ; 
Oh, he is the summer-time's gay cadet ! 

" Ka-lonk-o-lee ! 

The spring's a-glee, 
From the Hudson down to the Oconee. 

Ka-lonk-o-lee ! " 

As sweet as the lover's sweetest theme 

(" Glong-go-lee ! ") 
Are the shadowy pools in the loitering stream, 
Or the pond where the water-lilies dream. 

" Ka-lonk-o-lee ! 

To Pan and me 
The reeds have willed their melody. 

Ka-lonk-o-lee ! " 

When they meet for a sing in the wooing-time, 

(" Jubilee ! ") 
'Tis the gurgle of water in joyous rhyme, 
[*5] 



THE POEMS OF 

Or the golden peal of a tuneful chime — 
" Ka-lonk-o-lee ! 
"What a jamboree 
We're having up here in the sycamore-tree ! 
Ka-lonk-o-lee ! " 



[16] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



THE CHICKADEE 

(Triolets) 

THE chickadee tilts 
On a sycamore bough. 
In cute little kilts 
The chickadee tilts, 
Like a brownie on stilts 

Near his sweet little frau. 
The chickadee tilts 
On a sycamore bough. 

The chickadee wears 
A cunning black cap. 

In all his affairs 

The chickadee wears 

With genial airs, 

The dear little chap, — 

The chickadee wears 
A cunning black cap. 

[*7] 



THE POEMS OF 

The chickadee's song 
Is " Chickadee-dee." 

It is not very long, 

The chickadee's song ; 

Not much in a throng, 
But it satisfies me. 

The chickadee's song 
Is " Chickadee-dee." 

The chickadee dines 

On, — what do you think ? 
Not ices and wines ; 
The chickadee dines 
On lunches he finds 

In many a chink. 
The chickadee dines 

On, — what do you think ? 

The chickadee nests 

In a hole in a tree. 
The cats are not guests 
Where the chickadee nests ; 
No robber molests 

His little tepee. 
The chickadee nests 

In a hole in a tree. 
[18] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

The chickadee stays 
All the year round. 

On cold winter days 

The chickadee stays ; 

The cat-bird delays 
Till daisies abound. 

The chickadee stays 
All the year round. 



['9] 



T 



THE POEMS OF 



THE SONG OF THE SICKLE 
>ICKLE, tickle, tickle," 

Hums the mower's dewy sickle 
In the grass. 
Tickle-tops and timothy, 

Meadow-rue and clover, 
Feel a sudden tremor, 

Bow, and topple over, 
As they feel the tickle 
Of the mower's dewy sickle, 
Ever laughing through the meadows like a merry 
country lass. 

" Tickle, tickle, tickle," 

Where the lights and shadows trickle 

Through the green. 
Meadow-lark and bobolink 

Pouring molten beauty 
For an aureole to crown 

Homely toil and duty, 
While the glinting sickle, 
With its " tickle, tickle, tickle," 
Misses sundry little blossoms, where the bees will 
come and glean. 

[20] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

" Tickle, tickle, tickle ; " 

Heats of summer throb and prickle, 

Full of life. 
Steady tramp the sturdy bays, — 

Gearing smoothly gliding ; 
Sleepy driver nods and dreams, 

From the endless riding ; 
And the glancing sickle, 
With a tickle, tickle, tickle, 
Sings a song of love and gladness to the farmer's 
listening wife. 

" Tickle, tickle, tickle ! " 

Oh ! the dreams of youth are fickle 

As a cloud. 
Changing as the changing stream, 

Or the changing shadows, 
Come and gone, and here and there, 

On the changing meadows, 
Till the " tickle, tickle, tickle," 
Of death's ever-busy sickle 
Lays us all away forever in a never-changing 
shroud. 



[21] 



THE POEMS OF 



IN BOHEMIA 

IN Bohemia, peaceful Bohemia, 
O, there are no clocks and watches ; 
Time is reckoned by the notches 
On a cloud, 

In Bohemia. 

In Bohemia, festive Bohemia, 
Lunch is spread on fragrant grasses, 
And a sunbeam laughs and passes 

O'er the plate, 

In Bohemia. 

In Bohemia, joyful Bohemia, 
Cups and spoons are purple clam-shells, 
Washed by dimpled, laughing damsels 

By a brook, 

In Bohemia. 

In Bohemia, dreamy Bohemia, 
Here and yon a happy loafer, — 
Ne'er a gold-clawed human gopher 

Piling dirt 

In Bohemia. 

[22] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

In Bohemia, care-free Bohemia, 
Everywhere are jolly, vagrant 
Sybarites, who breathe the fragrant 

Breath of life, 

In Bohemia. 



[23] 



THE POEMS OF 



AECADEE 

1WAS born in Arcadee ; 
And the leaves on every tree 
Have a secret word to say 
To my ear, where'er I stray. 
I was born in Arcadee, 
And I've stayed there, happy me. 

O, the world in Arcadee 
Is just like this world you see ; 
Only, there the native-born 
Are immune to care and scorn. 
Every discord is a glee 
To those born in Arcadee. 

They have storms in Arcadee — 
Summer, winter, by decree ; 
But the natives only know 
Just the treasures of the snow. 
Heart of light is plain to me 
In all storms of Arcadee. 

[24] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

He that's born in Arcadee 
Holds the golden sesame ; 
In his footprint there is seen 
Crystal fount of Hippocrene. 
All the world shall bend the knee 
To those born in Arcadee. 

Better than to own the sea — 

Being born in Arcadee. 

To his Christ-anointed eyes 

Every vale is Paradise. 

I was born in Arcadee, 

And I've stayed there, — happy me. 



[25] 



THE POEMS OF 



SNOWING 

FEATHERING the willows, 
Drifting in the hedges, 
Piling downy pillows 
On the mountain ledges, — 

Bordering the streamlet 
Where the sedges shiver, 

Floating down a dreamlet 
To the drowsy river ; , 

Weaving shrouds of ermine 
For the perished roses, 

Soft as couch of merman 
When the deep reposes ; 

Speaking in a whisper 

Mystical and olden, 
Silver-throated lisper 

With a language golden ; 

[26] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

Smoothing out the wrinkles 

In the cemetery, 
Laughing where the tinkles 

Of the bells are merry ; 

Dancing like a fairy, — 
Vanishing returning, 

Till the spirits airy 
Set the woods a-yearning. 



[27] 



THE POEMS OF 



SPUING 

THE bees are droning dreamily in pear and 
apple bloom ; 
The gossamers are drifting by like fluffy flakes of 

spume. 
O, lazy, hazy afternoon, replete with life and love ! 
O, dreamy, creamy clouds that make a perfect tent 

above ! 
O, gentle, opal April skies, just wide enough for 

soul, 
By feeling round the finite space, to guess the 

mighty whole ! 
I lean against the friendly bark of this benignant 

oak, 
That thrice has heard the century clock peal its 

solemn stroke. 
I feel its prophecy of life transfused into my blood ; 
And like the forces in its trunk that crowd in limb 

and bud, 
I sense the pent-up potencies demanding to be freed 
In color and aroma and the verities of deed. 
[28] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

I answer to the climbing sap ; I heed the aching 

earth 
That travails since creation in the agonies of birth ; 
I put my hand unto the plow, and keep my eyes 

ahead ; 
I leave the dead to lag behind and put away their 

dead. 
I hear the bluebird's tirly-wirly, hear the flicker's 

trill ; 
I hear the insect in the grass, the heifer on the hill. 
The bass has picked a spawning place ; the snake 

is in the sun ; 
And everywhere the nimble feet of life begin to 

run; 

And everywhere I turn my eye — to sky, or stream, 

or sod, 
I read a poem ending with — 

The signature of God. 



[29] 



THE POEMS OF 



THE MAIDEN SPRING 

THE sweet, warm lips of early spring 
Come full upon my own ; 
They softly press and fondly cling, 
Like lips that I have known. 

Her garments touch me here and there, 

By wanton breezes stirred ; 
My forehead feels her rippling hair, 

Like wing of passing bird. 

Her budding breasts thrill all the dawn, 
Through vapors thinly laced ; 

And by the swelling curves of lawn 
Her amorous limbs are traced. 

The sun portrays her beaming face 

On every waking hill ; 
Her long hair curls a merry race 

With mosses in the rill. 
[3o] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

I thought an oriole flew by ; — 
Her sash gleamed through the wood. 

" Ah ! there's the mocking-bird," cried I ; 
But soon I understood 

What 'twas deceived my tingling ear, — 
'Twas she, the witching maid, 

Her merry laughter ringing clear 
With robins in the shade. 

All birds and blossoms by the way 
Are knights of her demesne, — 

The season's jubilant array 
To greet the sylvan queen. 



[3i] 



THE POEMS OF 



Dialect Poems 



ALL 'AT'S OUT 'S IN FREE ! 

HIDE an' seek," 'r " I spy ! " 
Good ol' game of long ago ! 
Keep your eye peeled like a cat ! 
Git caught ef you come pokin' slow. 

Creep behind a locus' tree, 

'R in the wagon-box, 'r hide 
Under some ol' burdox clump, 

An' fin' a hen's nes' there ; 'r slide 

Down the tater-hole an' spile 

Your new jeans pants jes' made that day 
'Member once, in tater time, 

I got a lickin' that-a-way. 

[32] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

Change coats, mebby, — coats an' hats ; 

Then scrooch behin' the picket fence 
So's to show up jest enough 

To fool the baseman ; consequence, 

He hollers, " One, two, three, fer Tom ! " 

When it's me ; nen we yell, 
An' whoop it up till he gits hot. 

A lot o' fun, I want to tell. 

Makes my oP heart tickle yit 

To think how me an' John an' Wall 

Went into the stable once, 

An' took a plank up in the stall, 

An' crep' in under in the dark, 
Wheres nobody couldn't see, 

An' laid there till Al had to yell, 
" All 'at's out 's in free ! " 

Hair's as white now as the snow 
'At piles up in an empty nest. 

Don't do nothin' any more 
But set out here an' dream an' rest ; 

[ S3] 



THE POEMS OF 

An' purty soon I'll slip away, 

An' hide fer good, where all is still, 

Under them big oaks 'at stan' 

Knee-deep in ferns on Folin's Hill. 

An' when the Jedgment Day comes by 
An' last one they can't fin' is me, 

I hope I'll hear ol' Gabrul say, 
" All 'at's out 's in free ! " 



[34] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



MAH LI'L' SNOWBALL 

WHAT raek yo' hah so kinkety, 
MahliT Snowball? 
What mek yo' face so inkety ? — 
Now, honey, don' yo' squall ! 

Yo' kinky hah, yo' inky face, 

Yo' li'l' stracted nose — 
Yo' cotch 'em f 'm yo' daddy an' 

Yo' mammy, don' yo' s'pose ? 

Yo' daddy face ist lak a pot, 
An' mammy's blackah yit ; 

An' bof dey hah as kinkety 
As evah it kin git. 

Den how yo' s'pose yo' dinky face 
Done gwine to happen white ? 

I'll chuck you in de flou' ba'l, 
An' leab yo' dah all night ! 
[35] 



THE POEMS OF 

You want to be lak white folks ! 

Chile, Ise ashamed o' you ! 
I'll git a pillar, dat I will, 

An' beat yo' black an' blue ! 

"White folks' houses got de hants, 
Wid yurs lak ol' ba'n do' ; 

An' big red tongues des lollin' out, 
An' draggin' on de flo'. 

Dah now, dah now ! 
Hootsy-tootsy, tuckahoe, 

Possum fat an' pone ; 
Fiddle cuore de rh'umatiz — 

An' shake de rattle bone, 

Lak angels trompin' in de dew, 
Whah sweet-gum shadders fall. 

Sh ! mah pickaninny ; sleep, 
Mah li'P Snowball. 

Mockin'-bird a-singin' sweet, 

In de 'simmon tree. 
He say de angels gwine t' come, 

An' play wid yo' an' me. 

[36] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

Magnolia blossoms dreamin' down, 
Sleepy, s-1-e-e-p-y, sleep ! 

Dahk a-comin' all aroun', 
Creepy, c-r-e-e-p-y, creep ! 

Oh, whah yo' is, mah honey, now ? 

Mah pickaninny, whah ? 
Is dat yo' eye a-shinin' yen ? — 

Dat liT winkin' stah ? 

I see yo' playin' on dat cloud ; 

Mah honey, don' yo' fall ! 
I wisht Ise wid you, playin' dah, 

Mah liT Snowball. 



[37] 



THE POEMS OF 



GOD'S OL' CLOTHES 

I COULDN'T never seem to see 
'At God don't wear ol' clothes. 
Sometimes he comes to visit me 
In weeds an' things, an' those 

01' leafy apurns Adam wore 

Clean back in Paradise. 
An' I jes' like 'im all the more, 

The more he never tries 

To strut into my tater patch, 

When I'm a-hoein' there, 
With kid gloves on, an' duds to match 

The rigs 'at princes wear. 

I'm not a-sayin' God is poor, 
An' hain't no royal robes ; 

Much less I'm sayin' he's a boor, 

An' likes a dress like Job's. 

[38] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

I've seen him wear a sunset coat, 
With stars all down the front, — 

An' little ones about the throat, 
So fine you'd haf to hunt. 

I've seen him wear a morning gown 

All glorious like the sun, 
An' on his head a royal crown 

Of clouds an' star-beams spun. 

Such costly robes 'ould break all banks 

To pay the tailor bill ; 
An' yit he 'lows you, jes' fer thanks, 

To wear 'em ef you will. 

But, jes' the same, when he makes calls 

On Tom an' Dick an' Hal, 
He'll maybe hev on overalls, — 

An' yit poetical, 

Like some big oak in winter dress, 
With leaves all brown an' old ; 

A painter 'd hunt a year, I guess, 
For one so manifold. 

[39] 



THE POEMS OF 

You see, God's always jes' like this : 
He speaks in your own tongue ; 

You understand him like a kiss, 
Or some sweet song 'at's sung 

By thrush or lark ; or like amens, 

'At all folks understand. 
An' then, his garments always blen's 

"With what is close at hand. 

O, him an' ms f We git along, — 

Especial in the woods, 
Where insect hum and wood-thrush song, 

An' all poetic moods 

Of leaf an' blossom, water sounds, 

An' silent spirit speech, 
An' shadders, — all expounds 

"What He intends to teach. 

Out there we're brothers, him an' I, 

Conversin' heart to heart : 
Our suits edzacly dentify ; 

You cain't tell us apart. 

[40] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



GOD'S BACK DOOE 

GOD don't offer me no hand-out, 
When I tramp to his back door ; 
Nur he doesn't make me stand out 
While I eat it, furthermore. 

Asks me in, an' calls me brother ; 

Sets me down to bread an' wine ; 
Doesn't touch his own lips, nuther, 

Till he put§ the cup to mine. 

All the ills by man invented, 

Meant to crush, and crunch, an' cramp, 
They melt away, an' I'm contented, 

When God owns me, me a tramp. 

So, the rich may enter mounted, 

At the port cosheer before. 
As fer me, I'll jes' be counted 

As a tramp at God's back door. 



[4i] 



THE POEMS OF 



MOTHER EARTH 

1JES' been layin' wake a spell, 
A-sympathizin' with the folks 
'At swelters in close rooms, while here 
The night is gentle, an' the oaks 

Are breathin' cool breaths through their leaves, 
Like fairies strewin' poppies deep 

About my bed, an' soothin' me 
Jes' right fer droppin' off to sleep. 

I put my hand out on the grass ; 

Or lay a-lookin' at the moon, 
An' thinkin' of good times 'at's gone ; 

Or list'nin' to the night's soft croon, 

While off somewhere a mockin'-bird 
Is breakin' out in rills o' song ; — 

Jes' sprinklin' all the night with pearls, 
An' sowin' dream-seed all along. 

[42] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

I'm glad they hev their nightingales 
Across the ocean, sky-larks too, 

'At climbs the stairways o' the air, 
An' loose theirselves up in the Blue. 

You don't ketch me a-braggin' round 
Jes' cause I beat some other chap, 

An' hev a better house or barn, 
Or hoss or cow, or tater crap. 

One glory of the nightingale, 

Another glory of the lark ; 
But when the mockin'-bird pours out, 

Let other birds jes' stop an' hark. 

There's sort o' medicine, I low, 

'At comes from layin' on the ground,- 

Like cuddlin' in your mother's lap, 
Where we all used to sleep so sound. 

So, on the ground's the place fer me, 
With some big oak a-sayin' then : 

" The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ 
Be with you evermore. Amen." 

[43] 



THE POEMS OF 

An' last I'll sleep here in the ground, 
Till that bright dawn, when time is done, 

I'll find Him tappin' at my door, 
An' say in' soft, "Wake up, my son." 



[44] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



French Forms 



I'LL PADDLE IN PUDDLES NO MORE 

( Virelai Nouveau) 



I 



'LL paddle in puddles no more 
The ocean lies luring before. 



I leap to the boat and the oar ; 
I push from the shoal and the shore. 
Out there waits my ship of the line ; — 
O, welcome the roll and the roar ! 
And welcome the sea-birds that soar, 
The surge and the smell of the brine ! 
I'll paddle in puddles no more. 

Like draughts of a long-treasured wine, 
That tingles my frame to the core ; 
Like mountain air scented with pine, 
It kindles nry heart to explore, — 

[45] 



THE POEMS OP 

To knock, and unlock every door 
Where Wisdom and Beauty keep store. 
Like a smile of the Presence Divine, 
The ocean lies luring before. 

From foot-rope to spanker-sheet pour 

The seas with their gleaming phosphor ; 

I lean from the ropes in the fore, 

To waters where never prow tore 

The level floor's green crystalline. 

The dashing spray, fresh and saline, 

Drives home to my heart through each pore. 

I seek with the great Florentine 

The kingdom of Queen Proserpine. 

I chant from the primeval score, 

With my fathers, the vikings of yore. 

I brother with least colopore, 

With polyp and minutest spore ; 

For each is a perfect design, — 

Each bears immortality's sign. 

I'll paddle in puddles no more. 

With rapture I watch my prow gore 
Its way to the land where I swore 
To plant a victorious ensign. 
O, soul of me, never repine ! 
[46] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

Be it north in the polar seas frore, 
Or where the hot tropic suns shine 
Ablaze perpendicular o'er, — 
The spirit of emprise be mine ! 
The ocean lies luring before ; 
I'll paddle in puddles no more. 



[47] 



THE POEMS OF 



MY HEAKT WITH THE SWALLOWS 

IS ON THE WING 

( Tirelai Nouveau) 



M 



Y heart with the swallows is on the wing ! 
The meadows are blooming, and it is spring 



O, Nature is Queen and I am King, — 

The circle of life is the wedding ring. 

I love her for her royal heart, 

That's richer than all the wallowing 

Lords of wealth in the muggy mart. 

Our throne's in the fields, and there we fling 

Our wealth in roses and that sort o' thing. 

Fetch me a copy of Riley, and sling 

A cloud for a hammock ; be quick, and bring 

A gossamer cord by which to swing. 

This swaying branch shall help me start, 

And while birds rollick about I'll sing, 

" My heart with the swallows is on the wing ! " 

The breezes ! the breezes ! they kiss and cling, 
Wooing and cooing with artless art, 
Piercing me with immortality's sting, 
Teasing me into the forests apart, 
[48] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

And playing their jigs on every string 
Of my throbbing heart, till I feel the smart 
Of budding life. And hark the " sping ! " 
Of departing bees, and the mellow ding- 
Dong of bells, and the ringlety-jing 
Of mowers and reapers and everything. 
The meadows are blooming, and it is spring ! 

From grassy lanes the " go-lang, go-ling," 
Of cow-bells comes, while woodlands ring 
With birds in their jolly jargoning. 
When Spring lays down her flowery chart, 
Like deer alert with limbs a-start, 
From the toiling town I quick depart. 
Let who will dig with the devil's dart, 
Where life lumbers on like a squeaky cart, 
I follow the midge with his tiny " ting ! " 
To the woods, where joy is dallying. 
The meadows are blooming, and it is spring ! 
My heart with the swallows is on the wing ! 



[49] 



THE POEMS OF 



THE MUTE PIPE 

( Villanelle) 

IKANSACK the shores high and low 
To get me a reed for my tune, 
And I find not a pipe that will blow. 

There are harmonies in them I know, 

I hear them sometimes when they croon. 
I ransack the shores high and low. 

On other men's lips they bestow 

Their secrets in rhythmical rune — 
/ find not a pipe that will blow. 

Wherever broad rivers may flow, 
Wherever reeds line a lagoon, 
I ransack the shores high and low. 

I leap upon Pegasus, — Whoa ! 

And I search all the stars and the moon, 
Yet find not a pipe that will blow. 
[50] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

Then I turn to myself in my woe, 

And swear by the Great Horn Spoon, 
That I'll ransack my shores high and low 
Till I find me a pipe that will blow. 



t5i] 



THE POEMS OF 



WHEN FIRST WE MET 
(Roundel) 

WHEN first we met, an influence sweet, 
Like scent of rose with dewdrops wet, 
Breathed on my heart that quicker beat, 
When first we met. 

My hands I fill to pay my debt, 

With coin stamped in Love's furnace heat, 
And with Love's superscription set. 

And here, safe housed in love's retreat, 

I bless the unseen power yet, 
That stayed by thee my wandering feet, 
When first we met. 



[52] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



DEEP IN THE WOOD 

(Rondeau) 

DEEP in the wood I love God best ; 
Here I am the distinguished guest. 
Here is the primal stamp of " Good," 
And here the elemental mood 
Wherein the soul finds every quest. 
I live full life, supremely blest ; 
No dissipating imps intrude 
Deep in the wood. 

The " open secret " manifest, 
Or through long vistas sweetly guessed, 
Glows forth from leaf or saw-log rude ; 
All things with loving eyes are viewed, 
From rotten stump to warbler's nest, 
Deep in the wood. 



[53] 



THE POEMS OF 



A 



A RONDELET 

RONDELET — 
The best of wine in purest gold. 
A rondelet, — 
A star-beam caught in music's net ; 
A crystal thought in beauty's mould ; 
Your eyes, my Love, deep in them hold 
A rondelet. 



[54] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



THE CRITIC 

I TWEEDLE-LEE-LEED, 
And I twoodle-loo-looed. 
The critics decreed, 
So I tweedle-lee-leed. 
They're a Lilliput breed, 

But they have to be wooed 
So I tweedle-lee-leed, 
And I twoodle-loo-looed. 



[55] 



THE POEMS OF 



SESTINA 

" The very acme of metrical ingenuity." — Johnson, " Forma of 
English Poetry. ' ' 

IN May all magnets point to Hope, 
And every throat will sing a song. 
There's not a soul can droop and mope, — 
Each has the broadest skies for scope, 
In which to try his pinions strong, 
That smother in the scrambling throng. 

"With bees and blooms the meadows throng ; 
The south wind sings a song of hope, 

That urges us with impulse strong 

To join in Nature's wonder-song, 
That has all realms of life for scope, 
Where never heart can pine or mope. 

All winter long the trees would mope ; 
But now, like some embattled throng, 

Their branches push to wider scope, 

And bourgeon in victorious hope, 

While nesting birds pour out their song 
In streams of rapture sweet and strong. 
[56] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

The rivers swell with current strong, 
That erstwhile, bound with ice, did mope ; 

The rills join in the waking song ; 

The rain-clouds, all a happy throng, 
Are pouring down melodious hope 
Of summer days and sunlit scope. 

The pupa in its narrow scope 

Has felt the life-throb deep and strong, 
And struggles with a glowing hope 
No more, a worm, to creep and mope, 
But soon to join the soaring throng, 
A living dream of summer song. 

In May each heart will sing its song 

Of ampler vision, broader scope, 
Where all our loves and dreams shall throng, 
And Life's great ocean, full and strong, 
Shall drown all fiends that lag and mope, 
And every lip shall whisper — " Hope ! " 

O, white-winged Hope, with angel song ! 
Let sluggards mope, we crowd thy scope 
With pulses strong, a joyous throng. 

[57] 



THE POEMS OF 



Sonnets 



THE ALL-ENGULFING LOVE 

ONE time my father's farm was all of space. 
" As big as Father's farm ! " — there fancy 
curbed. 
But soon my little circles were disturbed ; — 
Horizons widened on and on apace, 
Till comets, yea, and light, lagged in the race, 
Yea, till creation's bounds at last reverbed 
"With crying of my soul, still urged, perturbed, 
To find an end to this horizon chase. 

The stars and suns are incidental motes, 
That float in the eternity's vast span 
That still shall be when they shall all remove. 

Eternity is but a word that floats 

Upon the ocean of the soul of Man, — 
And gulfing Man's soul is this woman-love. 
[58] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



EGO 

WHY, stripped of joy and with my heart burned 
out, 
Do I still fare adown this dusty road ? 
Why not turn on the driver with his goad, 
And crash through walls that hedge me all with- 
out? 
I marvel that my soul doth pule and doubt, 
And falter, yea, and palter with the tomb, 
As though its chill, and damp, and gloom 
Could deepen pains that swathe me here about. 

I am somebody ! That explains the case. 

I'd rather be a star that's lost in space, 

That eye or telescope shall find no more, — 
To move forever by myself alone, 

Howe'er my wand'ring soul might writhe and 
moan, 

Than lose this conscious ego at the core. 



[59] 



THE POEMS OF 



SISYPHUS 

WHEN first I heaved this boulder up of old, 
I laughed whene'er it, baffling all my skill, 
Careened, escaped my clutch, and crashed down 

hill 
With echoing plunge. Aye unperturbed I rolled 
It up ugain. My heart was not yet cold ; 
My thews were young ; my hopes of iris sheen. 
I heaved and tugged in joy and faith serene 
That o'er the crest I yet would see it bowled. 

But yonder in the vale my boulder lies. 
My heart is under it ! Yet, once again 
I gird me for the goal ; my soul defies 

Defeat ; I drag my burden from the fen 

Of submerged hopes, and now once more I rise 
Anear the rim ; my boulder sways, and then — ! 



[60] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



THE COMING OF SLEEP 

I PUT the day aside ; prepare for sleep. 
I choose some book, and filled with its delight, 
I saunter toward the reaches of the night. 
I find no hint of slumber in the deep, 
Sweet silence, while the first faint shadows creep 
In ever denser folds ; a gentle sprite 
Is tangling all my thoughts in merry spite, 
While in sweet anodynes my senses steep. 

I find no hint, and yet, I know not when, 
Things blur before my melting mind, 
Till, like a ship on silent sea profound, 

I drift and drift, in blindfold chance, and then 

Some dream-web falls about me from behind — 
I sweetly sink away ; in sleep I'm drowned. 



[61] 



THE POEMS OF 



TO MY PIPE 

THE curling clouds, like friendly genii, 
Float dreamily in many a graceful fold, — 
Dispart, unite, make mountains, windy wold, 
Suggest still waterfalls, the sea, the sky, 
And misty dawns and eves, with thrushes nigh. 
Sweet reveries enwrap me ; stories old 
Of Red-man in his wigwam, cunning, bold, 
And Black-man singing where his loved 
ones lie. 

The fire burns low, and midnight adds its charm — 
A restful charm that Lethe- ward invites. 
Life is no more a garment rent and seamed ; 
A halo, like an angel's fending arm, 

Or like the shining shields of Arthur's 

Knights, 
Surrounds me here. Heigh-ho ! I slept and 
dreamed. 



[62] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



MY SHIP CAME IN 

THE wharf I tramped for half a hundred years, 
In watching for my ship to climb the verge, 
And plow its way to me through roaring 

surge, 
With cargo rich to pay up all arrears, 
And rank me safe for aye among the peers. 

One sunset, lo ! a bark whose full sails urge 
Across those waves that purpling sunbeams 

purge — 
And straight to where I stand the pilot 
steers. 

I mount the plank with self-important stride, 

And wave to those on shore in deep content. 
I walk my deck ; exult, breathe victory's 
breath. 
Then, lo ! from fading shores behind, I ride 

To brightening shores whereon my eyes are 

bent. 
" Ho, Pilot ! say, what haven's this ? " — 
" 'Tis Death ! " 

[63] 



THE POEMS OF 



THREE SONNETS OF DARKNESS 

I 

" And the darkness could be felt." 

DOWNCAST I wandered one defeated day. 
Had I not worked, and prayed, and loved, 
and fought ? 
Had I not chased the gleam since dawning gray ? 
Had I the Muse not late and soon besought ? 

o 

Yea, that was life, when flesh could live on crusts ; 
I minded not when heart had blood to spare ; 
'Tis life, and sweet, when back cares naught for 

gusts, 
And hope has towering castles everywhere. 

I scorned their gold, and they've heaped back my 
scorn. 
I laughed at hunger ; now my child wants bread ! 
The bugle sounds retreat ! I move forlorn, 
To vanish 'mong the shadows with the dead. 
And yet I was not blind and dumb. O God ! 
Where is that path I should have found and trod ? 
[64] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

II 
" Golgotha." 

My burden drives my feet deep in the mire ! 
Life thrusts the stinging goad into my flesh ! 
In drops of bloody sweat my brows perspire, 
And more and more perplexities enmesh. 

Upon me shelterless fall chilling snows. 

I clench my teeth in silence ; make no moan ; 
And yet her heart that beats on my heart knows 
What skeletons along the way are strown. 

I am as one who fights and beats the air. 

Will this dark fen close over me at last ? 

Oh ! let me not, God, let me not despair ! 
Forsaken me, O God, my God, why hast ? 

Be with me when on cross my veins congeal ! 

Be with me in the tomb, and break the seal. 

Ill 

" The cup that my Father hath given me, shall I not 
drink it?" 

The cup is bitter ! Why should I tell lies ? 
If blistered lip were all its touch could bring, 
My heart might well such trifling pain despise, 
And lip might well afford to praise and sing. 
[65] 



THE POEMS OF 

But, blistered heart ! and blistered soul ! ah, me ! 
The springs of life embittered by the draught ! 
Then, heart, canst still through tears the heavens 

see, 
And pray, " God's will be done," while cup is 

quaffed ? 

Yea ! Let the night engulf me black and void ! 
Let my feet strike where'er Christ's feet have 

stepped. 
I dare to taste life's bitter unalloyed ! 
As brave souls aye have been, I shall be kept. 
All spears I'll quench at last in my good shield ; 
And we shall smile, Love, when these foes shall 
yield. 



[66] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



BE BOLD 

"T3 E bold ! be b °ld ! and evermore be bold ! " 
-L* It is indeed " most strange that men should 

fear." 
Place lance in rest, and foes will disappear, 
When down the lists the thundering clouds are 
rolled 

From hoof of steed by dauntless heart controlled. 
Perdition waits the man whom fears deform, 
While heaven yields to him who takes by storm, 
Ere vast eternity's dread doom is tolled. 

Let who will people all the dark with ghosts,— 

Where'er I sleep the sky-built ladders rise. 

I scan the mountainside, and lo the hosts 
Of the Omnipotent break on my eyes. 

Be bold, my heart, and plague of fears will cease. 

Where bold heart is, there nests the dove of 
peace. 



[67] 



THE *>OEMS OF 



EUKYDICE 

WHERE art thou, O, my lost Eurydice ? 
"Without thee all the charms of earth are 
naught ; 
The soul-expanding space for thee was wrought ; 
The life-flushed hills and many-sounding sea 
Are merely settings to exhibit thee. 

My dumb, neglected shell lies there unstrung, 
And in my heart one mournful dirge is sung — 
" Eurydice ! my lost Eurydice ! " 

Thy garments blew against me from behind ; 

Thy step was close ; thy breath was on my hair ; 

I panted, fought to rule mine eyes, grew blind 
Of soul, forgot and turned, oh, mad despair ! 

To see the mists of Orcus gulfing thee, 

And with thee all but grief, Eurydice ! 



[68] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



HAWTHORNE 

A LONELY soul, not of this day and race ; 
A dweller in the dim, unhappy past ; 
A dreamer of weird dreams whose phantoms cast 
Cold shadows overthwart the world's gray face ; 
A builder with a magic touch and grace, 
As delicate as frost-work ; unsurpassed 
In turning search-lights on the starless vast 
Of pain, — and setting all in time and space. 

Man's conscience was to him a bleating lamb ; 

Man's soul a wandering bird in bleakest storm. 

And yet, to keenest eye, there ever swam, 
In mystic dusk above, a heavenly form, 

That breathed aside life's painful sham, 

And showed the homing dove, safe, safe, and 
warm. 



[693 



THE POEMS OF 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

HOW beautiful upon the hills, thy feet, 
O, bringer of glad tidings to the slave ! 
Thy mighty soul transcends the blighting grave, 
And leads the ranks of all who found it sweet 
To burn their hearts out in life's furnace-heat 
To light their fellow men ; who dared to brave 
The batteries that boom, the mobs that rave, 
"When some path-finder leaves the ancient beat. 

How beautiful thy feet upon the hills, 

Thy feet that leave the rocky slopes aglow ! 
Beholding thee, the lowliest nature thrills, 

The loftiest feels, within, God's image grow ; — 
Beneath thee freedom's everlasting sills, 
And over thee the heaven-encircling bow. 



[7o] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



SHELLEY 

THOU soul-entrancing orb of mystic birth, 
With heart of light that leaves a burning 
wake, — 
Who knows thy whence ? — the way thy soul 

doth take ? 
Parabola, whose course is guessed from earth, 
As men, astonished, glimpse thy glittering girth 
About the universe of thought and sense 
And feeling, flashing out to deeps intense 
And vastest sweep of love and joy and mirth. 

Thou poet of the bright immensities ! 
With room for comets trailing light, while stars 
That Alcor darkens to way-mark the skies 

With shining guides for him who leaps the bars, 
And dares, like thee, abysmal plunges broad 
Through chaos unto starlit peace with God. 



[7'] 



THE POEMS OF 



ALEXANDEK HAMILTON 
(July 12, 1904) 

THOU framer of the mighty laws of state, 
And builder of our commerce all abroad, 
A century has added only laud 
Unto thy teeming mind, that in debate 
Did conquer difficulties, kill, create ; 

Did meet and throw with toughest wrestling 

thews 
All foes of Federal Government, did fuse 
All forces ; made them move as under fate. 

To-day we lay a wreath upon thy tomb, 

And rank thee first of all who wrought in gloom 
To bring our country to this day of power, 

And send it spinning on each glorious hour, 
In those prophetic forms that in the womb 
Of thy gigantic brain took shape and flower. 



[72] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



JOHN WESLEY 

" nr^HE world my parish is." Prophetic word ! 
A The map Napoleon carved on Europe's face, 
E'en now the student may no longer trace. 
All conquerors by vain ambition spurred 

Have merely proved their vaulting pride absurd ; 
But thou, great conqueror ! thy parish grows 
Until no corner of the earth but knows 
Thy name that's loved wherever it is heard. 

Great Wesley ! mighty man of mighty men ! 
We come to scribe our love upon the scroll 
That's writ by lauding continents, whose shores 

Are blest with churches dotting every glen — 
All bearing witness to thy kingly soul, 
That brightens through the everlasting doors. 



[73] 



THE POEMS OF 



FRIENDSHIP 
{To George Fox Cook) 

THERE lies before me here, embalmed in amber, 
A bright-winged hummer of some summer 
night. 
Our friendship, O my friend, has been a bright 
And joyous weaver of the air, since that Sep- 
tember 
When first we met. Oh ! well do I remember 
How each new day revealed some new delight ! 
And how the years have brought no frost to 

blight, 
No deleterious forces to dismember. 

In this my sonnet here I would imbed 

And save our friendship from the dust of years ; 

For in our friendship we have been the peers 
Of David and Jonathan. Oh, mighty dead 

On high Gilboa ! with you we dare to vie ; 

We've tasted friendship, too, my friend and I. 



[74] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



TO MY MOTHER 

" r^HE hath done what she could," the angels say 
vZy Each night, and close the book whose pages 

shine 
With records of thy deeds, dear Mother mine. 
Your faith by works is shown each golden day ; 

And your rich life, not lived for cheap display, 
Shall move by silent force of peace and light, 
Unseen by earth's blind eyes ; by faith not sight 
Shall pass through life unto its source divine. 

One day a mother-bird had left her brood, 
And spread her wings for the eternal flight. 
You came and hovered them ; made them your 
own ; 
You taught them song and perch, and gave them 
food; 
You led them with the lark to fields of light, — 
With much more to be told before God's throne. 



[75] 



THE POEMS OF 



THE SACRIFICE 

I "WENT up to the mount with breaking heart 
To sacrifice my soul's one child, my love. 
" O, God ! " I cried ; I could not look above. 
" O, God ! " I prayed, and in my soul the smart 
Of rending roots that bled at every start ; 
Of rending web that Love's bright fingers wove. 
" O, God ! O, God ! " and evermore I strove 
To feel my will of his wise will a part. 

" O, God ! I sacrifice my only child ! 

It came from thee, and to thee shall return. 

My will with thy high will is reconciled." 
Within I felt Love's altar fires burn 

All self away ; and from the ashes came 

A deathless love, like heaven-transcending flame. 



[76] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



THE NOETH POLE 

( Written April 6, 1909) 

SINCE Gaea sprang from Chaos, here alone 
I've watched and yearned, a diuturnity, 
Across the snow, across the ice-bound sea, 
Whose frigid lips, in dead'ning monotone, 
Repeat forevermore one dreary moan. 

I've watched till dynasties of gods grew old, 
Till hearts of burning stars were cinders 

cold, — 
Have yearned for Man to loose my virgin zone. 

At last he came ; no more am I forlorn ; 

His footprints are like kisses on my face ! 

This day shall stand alone, like that rare morn 
On which the great god Mercury was born. 

Let Time now drag till doom in weary pace ! 

This kiss eternity shall not erase. 



[77] 



THE POEMS OF 



Miscellaneous 



KIZPAH 

(2 Samuel xxi.) 

THERE is a depth of misery that still 
Outrivals Sheol. I am in that depth. 
Souls damned are conscious of a retribution 
Earned, which makes Gehenna's pain seem just. 
I have not sinned. I loved God with a love 
That mounted unto heaven's highest vault. 
I loved the very vipers that I feared, 
Because they came from God's creating hand. 
And Saul ! oh, mighty Saul ! whose arm was like 
The girdle Gabriel gave to Eve, — how I 
Loved Saul ! and God gave Saul ; therefore my love 
Encompassed God. And yet, back on these lips 
That sung his praise awake, and e'en in sleep 
Did move in dreams of praise, — back on these lips 
His hand smote harshly with a blighting curse. 
That hand should hold a shield before my breast ; 
[78] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

Should fend the fiery darts that pierce my soul, 

And burn with mad'ning sting, until I hurl 

My bleating, broken life into the void, 

And pray that it may sink to darkest deep 

Of dark Oblivion, and cease to be. 

Go mad ? I could ; but who would guard my dead ? 

Oh ! I could curse until my breath would smite 

The oaks on glorious Carmel, where I walked 

One summer night, and heard the chanting sea, 

And knew the tides that rolled in my own heart 

Were vaster yet. I looked up to the wide 

Profound with twinkling way-marks set 

Along the shining path that Enoch went, 

And knew that my own love should live and shine, 

When God had thrust those wondrous worlds all 

back 
Into the void. No, no ! I have not cursed. 
The heart where love has dwelt shall never curse ; 
The lips that Love has sealed shall never curse. 
I stand here naked of all fending shields 
And take the rod. Death knows no wretch like 

me. 
The four winds strike whatever house holds love 
Of mine ; a Babel smites whatever lip 
Would comfort me. I am a harvest-field 
[79] 



THE POEMS OF 

With all my wealth of grain burned black by rain 

Of fire that fell from yonder sky. I am 

The Paradise smote by the curse of God, 

A Paradise where only love has dwelt. 

I do not understand the ways of God, 

But weaklings are not tossed and tested thus. 

I fold my torture close as sign that I 

Am counted worthy in the eyes of God. 

And O, my Saul ! my best beloved Saul ! 
Wherever God have set thy dwelling-place, 
My love shall press forever on that door. 
As waters lean their weight against some dyke 
That holds its thwarting arm across the way, 
Day in, day out, while countless ages drag 
Through weary time ; and yet no smallest wink 
Of time do all those waters fail to keep 
Their vigil, — pressing, silent, constant, sure, 
Until some weary prop give way, and drops 
Become a trickling rill, that, while men sleep, 
Gnaws silently, till all the stifled wrath, 
The thwarted passion of a hundred years, 
Comes sweeping through to be forever free ; 
So I, whene'er the barriers shall break 
That hide thy face from me, my waiting love 
[80] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

Shall leap into the breach. Then let the blows, 
The crushing blows that shall annihilate 
All yon bright worlds, oh ! let them fall where'er 
They will, I'll keep fast hold of thee through all. 

I drain my cup, and gaze athwart its rim 
At something I see hidden in God's face ; 
And by some mystic sign my soul doth know 
That he is cleansing me so as by fire 
For some resplendent dawn of love and hope, — 
For some sweet lifting of this murky veil, 
Behind which hides his face and Saul's. O, babes 
Of mine ! 'tis this that nerves my weary arm ; 
'Tis this that lifts me from the black abyss, 
And smites pain on the brow with fine contempt. 
I know that my Eedeemer liveth ; yea, 
Though worms destroy this body, yet shall I, 
In some vast life, behold Jehovah's face ; 
Shall meet you there, some time, my babes, and 

Saul. 
And I shall steep my famished soul in life. 
Just as the desert, parched through centuries, 
Can drink the rain as no oasis can, 
Because each grain of sand cries out for rain ; 
So shall my soul drink in more life than all 
[81] 



THE POEMS OF 

But One who yet shall die to give that life 

To men. 'Tis this that shelters me who stand 

Here shelterless through barley harvest till 

The autumn rains. 'Tis this that makes me brave 

To meet attacking eagles that would tear 

The sacred bodies of my babies here. 

See where the cruel claws of that she wolf 

Tore at the breast where lay my baby's face ; 

And where thy head has rested too, my Saul. 

Triumphant over all that pain can bring, 
From lowest depth to highest height, I mount, 
To light, and life, and love, and God, and thee. 
As some exhaustless fountain feeds the sun, 
Until it melts the frosts and drives away 
The storms of winter, filling Abib's lap 
With store of ripening corn ; so comes a wave, — 
A tide of sun through all the frozen vales 
Of my storm-beaten life, and from me falls 
The winter with its bitter sting of death. 

Lo ! in the East a glorious star ! My eyes 
Fill with its light. A spirit sweet exhales 
From sea, and sky, and earth, enwrapping me. 
O, holy Eastern Star ; it is thy light 
[82] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

That soothes the torture in my aching heart. 
God's hand in smiting me smote still in love. 
His banner over me is love. I've kept 
My steadfast watch about my dead, until 
There's naught to lure the raven and the wolf ; 
The eagles trouble me no more. So, here, 
Where I have fought and conquered all that came, 
I'll lay me down and sleep. Did I not hear 
Young David sing before my Saul, one glorious 
Night, " He giveth his beloved sleep " ? 



[83] 



THE POEMS OF 



THE TUMALUM 

OYER me the maiden's bower 
Banks its cloud of curly balls 
On a thorn from whose leaf-twilight 

Comes a catbird's plaintive calls. 
O, delicious mountain breezes, 

Sweet with breath of fir and pine ! 
How you bathe my lungs and thrill me 

Like a draught of rare old wine ! 
And I take deep inspirations 

Till in sleep my senses numb 
By the purring of the waters 

Of the drowsy Tumalum. 

Work is good, and I'm companion 

To the reaper and the plow ; 
I've no quarrel with the Scripture 

On the sweating of the brow ; 
But on Sunday when the horses 

Are all resting in the shade, 
Then I slip off to the river, 

And I strip my feet and wade ; 
[84] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

Or I stretch beneath the alders 

While I listen to the hum 
Of the restful, soothing ripples 

Of the drowsy Tumalum. 

Thou hast brought from yonder mountains, 

From those peaks of spotless white, 
Dreams that wrap themselves about me 

Like a robe of woven light ; 
And, like Ruth, I glean and bind them 

In a sheaf that is as sweet 
As the breath of this rare orchid 

In the leaf -mold at my feet. 
And I know that I shall garner 

On some blessed day to come 
All the richness of this dreaming 

By the drowsy Tumalum. 

Far away in hazy distance 

Of October's purple pall, 
Gathering the autumn to me 

With its fruitage and its fall, 
There I float, and trail my body 

As an anchor here below ; 
There I see what mortals see not, 

And know what immortals know ; 
[85] 



THE POEMS OF 

For I'm sleeping and I'm dreaming, 
Hushed to slumber by the hum 

Of the lazy, liquid laughter 
Of the drowsy Tumalum. 



[86] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



MY MOUNTAIN MAID 

OMY sweetheart is a mountain maid 
, With a laugh like the lilt of a rippling rill, 
And a cheek like the lily that blooms in the shade 
Of the alders back of the old sawmill. 

Her eyes mind me of the luminous dark 

On June midnights when the moon is fair, — 

Alert as a deer to the hunter's hark, 
And deep as the wells of the Alcantare. 

Her bosom is like the sun-kissed snows ; 

Her voice is like the song of the thrush ; 
And all about her path there goes 

A peace like the peace of the twilight hush. 

When she meets me in the dewy dawn, 
Her footfall makes my heart beat glad, — 

As light as the breath of a listening fawn, 
Or the whispering feet of an Oread. 

[87] 



THE POEMS OF 

The harebells lean to touch her gown ; 

The humming-bird turns his burning throat ; 
And morning sets his glorious crown 

On her golden locks that ripple and float 

Like the long gold hair of a water nymph, 

Or the wimpling waves that braid the sun 
In a thousand vanishing forms of light 
a That dance on the pebbles and glance and run 

Over sands of beryl and tourmaline. 

The mountain loves her joyous song ; 
The sky bends down with a smile serene, 

And Nature attends her all day long. 

O, my sweetheart is a mountain maid, 
And we sit here on the canon's rim, 

While the purple petals of the daylight fade, 
And old Mount Hood grows far and dim. 

And love creeps up from the canon deep, 
And love yearns down from the peaks above, 

While all the little wings folding for sleep, 
Are whispering mystical words of love. 

[88] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



THE MERMAID'S SONG 

' 'T^IS not the moon, 
JL I know, I know, 
That makes the ocean ebb and flow ; 
'Tis not the moon, 

No, no! 
'Tis love, 'tis love, 
I know, I know, 
That thrills the heart of the ocean so ; 
'Tis yearning love, 
I know, — 
Triumphant love, and the undertow 
Is a woman's heart, 
I know, I know, — 
A happy heart, 
I know. 

'Tis not the sun, 
I know, I know, 
That makes the rainbow come and go ; 
'Tis not the sun, 

[89] 



THE POEMS OF 



No, no ! 



'Tis love, 'tis love, 

I know, I know, 
That tints the spray with the iris glow ; 

'Tis love's sweet kiss, 
I know, — 
Love's radiant kiss, and the luring bow 

Is love's bright crown, 

I know, I know, — 

Love's aureole, 
I know. 



'Tis not the winds, 

Ah, wo ! ah, wo ! 
That thrash and trample the ocean so ; 

'Tis not the wind, 
No, no ! 

'Tis angry love, 

I know, I know, 
That beats the wave into spin-drift snow ; 

'Tis angry love, 
Ah, wo ! — 
The wrath of love, and the shuddering throe 

[90] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

Is a woman's heart, 
I know, I know, 
A maddened heart, 
I know. 

'Tis not the boreal breath, 
Ah, me ! 
That freezes the heart of the polar sea ; 
Not wintry breath, 

Ah, me ! 
'Tis injured love, 
(Ah, whisper low !) 
That chills the polar ocean so ; 
'Tis wounded love, 
I know. 
'Tis wounded love, and the icy floe 
Is a woman's heart 
I know, I know, — 
A broken heart, 
I know. 



[9i] 



THE POEMS OF 



LOYE AND I 

WE kept our happy watch together, 
Love and I, 
In all the golden, dreamy weather 
When June held in fee the sky. 
"We watched the rainbow in the Blue ; 
Armfuls of roses for us two ; — 
We knew our dreams would all come true, 
Love and I. 

We kept our steadfast watch together, 

Love and I, 
In sad October's mournful weather, 

When the winds went moaning by. 
Our eyelids strained against the sleet, 
But not an inch did we retreat ; 
We held at bay death and defeat, 

Love and I. 

[92] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

We keep our cheerless watch together, 

Love and I, 
In all the dark and stormy weather 

Under winter's shuddering sky. 
A mound between us piled with snow, 
Ice in our hearts, yet we'll not go ; 
We'll keep our watch through darkest throe, 

Love and I. 

We'll keep our happy watch together, 

Love and I, 
In all the bright supernal weather 

Under heaven's eternal sky. 
We'll watch the dross turn into gold ; 
We'll watch horizons far unfold, 
And, oh ! each other's hands we'll hold, 

Love and I. 



[93] 



THE POEMS OF 



MOLLY BAWN 

OGKEEN the sedges grow beside 
> The pond in Pioneer, 
And greener grow the graves of those 
Who once were dwelling here. 

The mill was busy all the day 
With happy hum and whirl ; 

About the idle millstone now 
The ivies cling and curl. 

O, many a stilly afternoon, 

And many a summer dawn, 
The lilies waved to the old canoe 

Of me and Molly Bawn ; 

And many a night, when moon was full, 
And echoing hills and glades 

Eesounded with the joyous shouts 
Of merry men and maids, 

[94] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

With hearts aglow like burning stars 

That filled the winter sky, 
We sped along through realms of love, 

Sweet Molly Bawn and I ; 

And Molly gave her promise there, 
Whose sweetness shall abide 

When every star has faded out 
And all but love has died. 

She slumbers now, sweet Molly Bawn, 

Beneath the linden shade, 
Where first the violets bloom in spring, 

And last the summers fade. 

All season long the wood-thrush sings, 
Deep in the grove withdrawn, 

The songs he sang so long ago 
To me and Molly Bawn ; 

And lovers fly along the ice, 

Or push the old canoe 
Among the water-lilies now, 

As we were wont to do. 
[95] 



THE POEMS OF 

But through their joy a gentle voice 

Is calling ever on 
To where my soul shall meet the soul 

Of angel Molly Bawn. 



[96] 






LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



BIMINI 

THE sleigh-bells, 
The May-bells, 
The sweet buds, 

Are mine ; 
The starlight, 
The far light 
In fond eyes, 

The wine ! 
Hillo-ho ! hio-ho ! 
The fond eyes, 

The wine ! 

Osiris 
And Iris, 
The mermaid, 
The Queen 
Of Faery, 
So airy, 

The sweet Hippocrene ! 
Hillo-ho ! hio-ho ! 
The sweet Hippocrene ! 
[97] 



THE POEMS OF 

The morning 
Adorning 

The East 
Calls me fair. 
O, jolly ! 
The holly— 
The holly I wear. 
Hillo-ho! hio-ho! 
The holly I wear. 

Hillo-ho ! hio-ho ! 
O, youth is so sweet ! 
It thrills me, 
And fills me 
From crown to my feet ; 
Hillo-ho ! hio-ho ! 
My gay dancing feet ! 
Hillo ! hillo ! hio ! ho, ho ! ho, ho ! 



[98] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



SERENADE 

SOFT stars shining, 
Clouds reclining 
On the lining 

Of the Blue. 
Roses feeling 
O'er them stealing, 
Softly o'er them, 
Mists of dew. 



O, sweet maiden, 
Slumber-laden 
Airs of Aidenn 

Bring thee dreams ! 
Come each fairy 
Light and airy, 
Come and tarry 

In her dreams. 

[99] 



THE POEMS OF 

Now she's sleeping ; 
O'er her creeping, 
In Love's keeping, 

Dream-wings light. 
Guard her Venus, 
While between us, 
Dark between us, 

Falls the night. 



[ ioo] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



THE HOLLY BOUGH 

HURRAH for the holly bough ! 
Old winter is jolly now ! 
We've waited all year, 
But Christmas is here, 
And joy on every brow. 

Adown the long slope they're sped,- 
The flying toboggan and sled ; 

While skaters twine, 

And the runners shine 
Like the stars that sparkle o'erhead. 

The jolly and jargoning bells ! 
Their tinkling in sweetness excels. 

The treasures of snow, 

And the laughter, O, 
With its musical, magical spells ! 

Hurrah for the holly bough ! 
The children are jolly now ; 

For winter is here 

With Christmas cheer, 
And joy on every brow. 
[ioi] 



THE POEMS OF 



FAIRY LULLABY 

LULLABY, O, lullaby ! 
Baby darling, close your eye, 
While the beautiful Queen Mab 
Swings you by a spider-web 
From a lily white and tall, 
Near some dream-land waterfall, 
Rocking with her tiny hand 
To a tune of By-lo-land. 
Lullaby, O, lullaby. 

Lullaby, O, lullaby. 
Stars are sleeping in the sky ; 
Birdie snuggles in the nest ; 
Baby, close to Mama's breast, 
Drifts away to land of sleep, 
Through the gates the angels keep, 
Gently rocked by Mama's hand 
On a cloud in By-lo-land. 

Lullaby, O, lullaby. 
[ 102] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

Lullaby, O, lullaby. 
Baby darling, close your eye. 
Mama's love is sweet and warm ; 
Mama's breast keeps off the storm. 
Drowsy, drowsy, to and fro, 
Long eyelashes drooping low ; — 
Baby's little pink feet stand 
Deep in blooms of By-lo-land. 

Lullaby, O, lullaby. 



[103] 



THE POEMS OF 



WHAT IS IT THAT TUGS AT MY HEAET ? 

PERFECTION of earth in its October dress ; 
Perfection of sky in its gown of soft haze ; 
Far vistas that lure me to wonder and guess 

What landscapes eternal lie hid from my gaze. 
The glory, the glory ! and yet, oh, the smart ! 
What is it that tugs at my heart ? 

A valley lies skirted with woods on each side, 
The Valley of White Oak, the home of my 
youth ; 
The creek and the clear " Upper Spring " with its 
tide 
Of waters as sweet as the fountain of truth. 
The glory, the glory ! and yet, oh, the smart ! 
What is it that tugs at my heart ? 

My mem'iy, a river with margins of gold, 

Flows through that dear Yalley, and I a light boat 
Float there among lilies, where echoes are rolled 
As sweet as the song from the mocking-bird's 
throat. 
The glory, the glory ! and yet, oh, the smart ! 
What is it that tugs at my heart ? 
[ IQ 4] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

" Boxelder," with windows swung wide to the 
night ; 
The moonlight streams in over forms that I 
love ; 
An unbroken home ! sleeping sound, sleeping light, 
And over them spread the white wings of a 
dove. 
The glory, the glory ! and yet, oh, the smart ! 
What is it that tugs at my heart ? 



I wander by Clear Creek with old willow rod, 
A chub and a shiner or two on my string, 

A greensward as soft as a mortal e'er trod, 

And a foot that is light as a young eagle's wing. 

The glory, the glory ! and yet, oh, the smart ! 
What is it that tugs at my heart ? 



I walk over fields where 'twas I led the charge : 
I feel the old itch of my hand for the sword,— 

My jeweled Excalibur, keen for the targe, 
When battles were on in behalf of my Lord. 

The glory, the glory ! and yet, oh, the smart ! 
What is it that tugs at my heart ? 
[105] 



THE POEMS OF 

I walk the rich moonlight again with my bride, 
While the earth like an opal burns under my 
feet. 

I feel the warm surges of life at high tide, 

And the touch of her hand is supernally sweet. 

The glory, the glory ! and yet, oh, the smart ! 
What is it that tugs at my heart ? 

I push a gate gently — alone with the dead ; 

The underground city so packed and so drear ! 
I stroke the grass softly ; I bow my gray head ; 

And I know that I too shall soon journey down 
here. 
The glory, the glory ! and yet, oh, the smart ! 

What is it that tugs at my heart ? 



[io6] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



TRANSFIGURATION 

'""l^HE shadows deepen 

1 On the hill ; 
I hear one lonely 
Whippoorwill. 

The purring leaves, 
The breathing herds, 

The hushing croon 
Of brooding birds, 

The drowsy hum 

Of insect flight, 
The downy footfall 

Of the night, 

Are murmuring secrets 

In my ear : 
They tell me that 

Morpheus is near ; 

[ 107] 



THE POEMS OF 

They tell me thou 
Art coming soon, 

With all thy train, 
O, summer moon. 

A dreamy peace 
Swims in my brain, 

Like breath of woodland 
After rain. 

My soul's at rest, 
Hushed on the sea 

Of undisturbed 
Tranquillity ; 

The knotty problems 

Of the day 
Melt into mist, 

And fade away. 

Time's roaring wheels 

]STo longer jar ; 
I hear the dream-bells 

From afar. 
[108] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

My eyelids droop ; 

All burdens lift ; 
My hands relax ; 

My soul's adrift. 

Dream crowds on dream, 
While Love and Hope 

Shift aye the bright 
Kaleidoscope. 

I lose my way 

And grope and guess 
In slumber's mazy 

Wilderness ; 

Or float on Lethe's 

Bosom deep, 
A wanderer in 

The land of sleep. 



[109] 



THE POEMS OF 



LIFE 

I HAVE lived the full life of the free ; 
I have not worn the yoke of the world ; 
I have tossed with the white-caps at sea, 
In the tornado's heart I have whirled. 

I've accepted myself and my load ; 

I have moved neither lag nor in haste ; 
I have gathered what grew by the road, 

And life has been sweet to my taste. 

I have not allowed God to compel ; 

For my heart has kept pace with his might. 
God sends every coward to hell ; 

So I have not cringed in his sight. 

To hell goes the soul without life ; 

So I drink at Life's springs, breathe Life's air 
I fight on her side in all strife ; 

Her badge and her password I bear. 
[no] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

I have cast my soul's burdens on none ; 

I have called upon no man for aid ; 
From the stuff that God gave me I've spun 

The creed I have lived unafraid. 

And when the great Judge shall command 
Mankind and their deeds to be sieved, 

I'll advance with my lifted right hand, 
And answer Him, " Lord, I have lived." 



[in] 



THE POEMS OF 

In the following mystic song, I coined both words, Algomar 
and Balmoree. Later I saw the first in a poem by " Ironquill." 
In reply to my inquiry, he said he also coined the word many 
years ago. 



ALGOMAK 

OHAST thou e'er dreamed of Algomar, 
Sweet Algomar by the Balmoree ? 
Whose forests and fountains and palaces are 
All built in yon cloud, and are all for thee. 

The gardens all bloom with thy hopes and thy 
dreams ; 

The fountains sing ever the song of thy heart ; 
The palaces fair — each happy hall gleams 

"With likeness of thee, limned by thine art. 

The angels may wander with wondering eyes, 
And long to discover this mystical realm, 

That has a legation in Paradise, 
An ambassador under each oak and elm ; 

But never an angel knows Algomar, 

And never an angel the Balmoree ; 
The king of that realm is an avatar, 

And the kingdom is locked with a mystic key. 
[112] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

Oh ! an unseen hand plays a zither sweet 
With the haunting thrills of a long-lost rune ; 

The words no mortal may repeat, 

But they weave the soul in a soft cocoon. 

By the Balmoree one waits thee there, — 
And yearning waits with a golden bowl 

To touch thy lips with Amrita rare — 
Supernal love for the thirsty soul. 

O, haste thee to find sweet Algomar — 
To meet one there by the Balmoree ; — 

The forests and fountains and palaces are 
Empty of all when empty of thee. 



["3] 



THE POEMS OF 



I GO, I GO 

WHAT'S peace ? To emanate unvext. 
What's rest ? Unhindered to evolve. 
What's now irks not, but aye what's next ; 

The problem sought is one to solve. 
I dare not cast my eye to rear ; 

Before me fleets the luring bow ; 
To cease to move, my only fear ; 
To stand is death ; 

I go, I go. 

I seek for struggles cowards shun. 

What matter fame and clink of gold ? 
I'm girt for one unending run ; 

No siren song my course may hold. 
" Speed on ! aye on ! " I hear a cry. 

I heed ; and whether soft stars glow, 
Or ragged lightnings rend the sky, 

With face to front, 

I go, I go. 
["4] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

Empires are born and kings are crowned 

On battle-fields strewn thick with dead. 
My captain's voice is welcome sound. 

The rainbow bridge I may not tread ; 
Its radiant floor not for my feet ; 

"With Thor, I dare the gulfs below ; 
Like him to tread fair Asgard's street 

With conquering heart, 

I go, I go. 

I go to still expanding fields, 

To boundless skies and visions broad ; 
I go to break all bars and seals ; 

To span the Vast ; to fathom God. 
I go to ever younger youth, — 

To pierce, and solve, and see, and know. 
With gates of soul set wide to truth, 

And fear dethroned, 

I go, I go. 

I go from human to divine, 

From clouded eye to vision clear. 

I go to make all beauty mine, — 

From circle cramped to angel sphere. 
["5] 



THE POEMS OF 

Farewell the worm ! Farewell the clod 1 
However far, however slow, 

Along yon starry way to God, 
On lengthening wing, 

I go, I go. 



[116] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



EASTER 

OH ! black was the night when my Lord was 
betrayed, 
And darker the day when he lay in the tomb ; — 
The legions of hell against heaven arrayed, 

The world plunged in chaos of horror and gloom. 

We trusted 'twas he whose right arm should re- 
deem 
Poor Israel, crouching in sackcloth and tears. 
We looked that the sword and the banner should 
gleam 
Victorious over Rome's insolent spears. 

We thought to have seen, as Gehazi of old, 
The hosts of Jehovah with chariots of fire, — 

A burning tornado relentlessly rolled 
Against every foe of fair Israel's desire. 

["71 



THE POEMS OF 

When my Lord on the cross gave that anguishing 
cry, 

A dart struck at life, as when sweet Eden fell ; 
A shudder ran cold through the earth and the sky ; 

There was sorrow in heaven and triumph in hell. 



Then a glad ray of light pierced down from the 
Throne, 
And an answering ray shot aloft from the grave, 
As back from the door angel hands rolled the 
stone, 
For Jesus triumphant and mighty to save. 



O, bright was the dawn when my Saviour arose ! 

O, Easter, glad Easter, and bright was thy day ! 
" Hosanna ! Hosanna ! He conquers his foes ! " 

There is triumph in heaven, in Sheol dismay. 



He is risen ! O, grave, where now is thy boast ? 

He is risen ! O, death, where now is thy sting ? 
Rejoicing we join with the heavenly host ; 

We shout with the angels till star-spaces ring. 
[118] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

My Saviour, thy mission we misunderstood ; 

Thy kingdom is not of the scepter and spear. 
Thy realm is a kingdom of world brotherhood, 

And this is indeed the millennial year. 

O, glory to God in the highest. Amen ! 

As in the beginning, so aye let it be. . 
Hosanna ! till heaven shall echo again ; 

For Jesus is risen, and Man shall be free. 



["9] 



THE POEMS OF 



O, HOLY SPIRIT 

OHOLY SPIRIT, vital calm, 
, That makes the Sabbath day so sweet ; 
It heals me with a heavenly balm, 
And draws me to the mercy-seat. 

O, Holy Spirit, Comforter, 

That speaks, and lo ! my sorrows cease ; 
With love my deepest senses stir, 

And all my life flows on in peace. 

O, Holy Spirit, breath of God, 
With incense filling all my soul ; 

That frees me from the clinging clod, 
And makes my broken spirit whole. 

O, Holy Spirit, power divine, 
That moves upon my life to-day ; 

Thy guiding light doth constant shine, 
And bless me with its heavenly ray. 



[ 120] 



LEEOY TITUS WEEKS 



w 



GOD-KIND 

E think thy thoughts, O, mighty God ! 
Thy thoughts that thrill through space 
afar — 
That hold in place each twinkling star, 
And permeate the teeming sod. 

We think thy thoughts, and live thy life ; 

Our souls are fathered by thine own, 

And high as is thy holy throne, 
So high Ave mount from sin and strife. 

We live thy life, and love thy love ; 

The tendrils of our souls entwine 

Our fellow men, as love divine 
Entwines and draws us all above. 

We think, and live, and love, and grow, 
Like Thee, in ever brightening ways. 
We are God-kind, and all our days 

Are in Thy hands who made us so. 

[121] 



THE POEMS OF 



PEACE ON EAETH, GOOD WILL TO MEN 

O BELLS, O, throbbing bells, O, joyous bells ! 
, Proclaim the peace of God through all the 
earth ! 
From out your million throats the anthem swells, 
And rolls from pole to pole to tell the birth 

Of Christ, the Son of God, the Morning Star,— 
Kedeemer of the world, and victor, He, 

O'er death and hell and all the sins that war 
Against the soul of man. Forever free ! 

O, send the rapturous peals of joy and peace 

To join the stars, to find their way 
To heart of earth, and thrill its plains and seas ; 

And, best of all, to hold eternal sway 

Within the human heart. O, peace ! O, boon 
Of heaven breathed down on man by angel lips, 

To stay with breath of life the fierce simoon 
Of sin ; to stop forevermore the Sun's eclipse, — 

[ I22 J 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

The Sun of Righteousness that hath at last 
Arisen with healing in his wings. Proclaim 

This joyful news, O, bells : God's armies massed 
For peace against the works of sin and shame. 

I hear it pulsing in the radiant sky : 

" Good will toward men ! " I hear the bells of 
all 
The world uniting in the glad reply : 

" Mankind redeemed forever from the Fall." 

O, join the anthem, all ye sons of God, 

Joint heirs with Christ to all God holds in store ; 

Crowned new this glorious Christmas morn ; new 
shod 
With peace ; the Christ made ours forevermore. 



[ I2 3] 



THE POEMS OF 



TRUST 

I LISTENED to the flowers 
That to the zephyrs nod ; 
Their sweet lips kept repeating, 
" We know there is a God." 

I saw their rain- wet faces 
Turned mournfully above ; 

But still they smiled and whispered, 
" We know that God is love." 

I saw their withered petals 
By autumn breezes blown, 

And thought to hear their lips 
Complaining like my own. 

But sweet reproof they gave me 
From lips low in the dust ; 

For still they smiled and whispered, 
" We know that God is just." 



[ ^4] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



UNTO GOD 

EARTH has no useless blooms that grow 
Upon her sod ; 
Their beauties all and perfumes flow 
Back unto God. 

Earth has no loves that die and go 

Under the sod ; 
They keep their broken dreams and flow 

Back unto God. 

Earth has no graves that vainly roll 

Clod unto clod ; 
Through them proceeds the weary soul 

Back unto God. 



[125] 



THE POEMS OF 



THE FOUNTAIN 

A DROP 

At the top, 

A beautiful geni 

In the pearl diadem 

Of a nymph of the sea 

With her hah* wild and free 

Streaming back through the mist 

In a spangled and multiform twist 

O'er the white robe of rainbow-lit spray 

That encircles in magical beauty alway 

This dream-world of laughter and song. 



At last in the peace of the marble-edged pool, 

It dimples and dallies, deliciously cool, 

Where the sunbeams are broken and drowned in 

the wave, 
And the gold-fish and lilies in idleness lave, 
And the shadows dream all the day long. 
[126] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

A drop 
At the top, 
That no higher can go 
For a strange undertow 
That sucks the drop back 
To be drowned in the black 

Labyrinth of confusion and vortex of night ; 

Hid from the manifold beauties of light ; 

Lost to the life of the fount on the lea, 

To wake in the larger, the life of the sea. 



This life is a flow 

With a strange undertow. 

O, the rainbow, the pearl, 

And the unending whirl 

Of laughter and tears 

That combine through the years 

The turmoil of the sea 

And the peace of the stars 

With the mountain rill's glee 

And the frenzy of wars ! 
Leaping from basin to pool, out of breath, 
To be sucked back at last into darkness and death. 
[ "7] 



THE POEMS OF 

But Death is not king : 
The chrysalid's wing, 
That the searcher may trace 
On the fine mummy-case, 
Is mortality's sign 
That immortal shall shine 
The soul that can pierce here the secret divine. 

So the spirit of Man with its heavenly thrills 
That were breathed down upon it on star-hovered 

hills, 
While leaping in cascades and mad cataracts, 
Though it reach the low valley and sink in the sod, 
Shall waken again in the likeness of God. 



[128] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



TORCH AND BURDEN 

HERE, take my torch, young man so fleet ; 
I held it when you needed light ; 
I cheered you on from height to height ; 
Now comes your day, and comes my night. 
O, take my torch, young man so fleet. 

Here, take my burden, youth so strong. 

Once I could fly beneath its weight ; 

I was the eagle's tireless mate ; 

Now unto you I abdicate ; 
O, take my burden, youth so strong. 

Here, take my torch, young maid so sweet ! 
My torch I lit by morning star, — 
My torch of love that beams afar 
Like Arthur's gemmed Excalibar. 

O, take my torch, young maid so sweet. 

Here, take my burden, maid so fair, 
And share it with yon youth so fleet, 
Who walks the earth with air-like feet ; 
Ye twain shall conquer frost and heat ! 

O, take my burden, maiden fair. 
[ I2 9] 



THE POEMS OF 

Here, take my torch, ye lovers twain ! 
But why should I obstruct the road, 
And vex you with my weary load ? 
Nay ! I will keep the pack and goad ; 

Take ye my torch, O, lovers twain ! 



t 130] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



LOSS AND GAIN 

I ONCE was rich, and all the poor 
Strewed blessings thick about ray door. 
The rich walked with me, arm in arm, 
And in my presence found a charm. 
My wealth was swept into the sea ; 
Then rich and poor deserted me. 
But I had learned to love and give : 
That grace I hold ; by that I live. 

Fame lifted up my name on high ; 
I rode on clouds ; I touched the sky. 
There came a blast that chilled my fame, 
And those who praised were wont to blame. 
But all the discipline, the skill, 
I won the while, I hold that still. 

While I was massing wealth I knew 
The wings on which wealth ever flew ; 
Was mindful that the only gain 
Is what we learn through peace, through pain ; 
[i3i] 



THE POEMS OF 

Was mindful that the only grace 
That blooms eternal in the face 
Is that sweet grace hid from the world 
"Within the bosom chastely furled, — 
A grace that wealth cannot supply, 
That lack of wealth cannot deny. 
The question is — While massing wealth 
Does business foster spirit's health ? 
When wealth has justice by her side, 
Her radiant face is deified. 

While fame was spreading sweetest sound, 
My ear was ever close to ground 
To catch the tramp of history's feet 
That pass on to the judgment-seat ; 
They hasten not when fame incites ; 
They dally not when wealth invites, 
But carry on into the gloom 
That chills the dark and voiceless tomb 
The records of this teeming life, 
Where myriad forces are at strife : 
Not — He was rich, or he was poor ; 
Not — He was famous, or obscure ; 
But, how he shriveled ; how he grew ; 
That he was false, or he was true ; 
[ 132] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

In letters black as midnight murk, 
How he did grovel, cringe, and shirk ; 
Or else in characters of light, 
How he withstood the frost and blight. 



[133] 



THE POEMS OF 



DE PEOFUNDIS 

I DIG down into the dark. 
My soul needs a lesson not learned in the light, 
So I leap down into the gulfs of the night, 
Away from the sky and the lark. 

What though fanged serpents do crawl 
O'er my feet, and the air smell leprous and dead ? 
Till I find where the fountains of life are fed, 
I proceed, nor shrink from them all. 

I'm steeled to all danger and pain. 
What more can a mortal conceive of harm, 
When God's love motives his heart and arm ? 
Henceforth all torture is vain. 

I come here to search and to know. 
If I dig just below the last root of fear, 
To where all the forces of life cohere, 
Then evermore upward I grow. 



['34] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



THE WHITE STAG 

(From Uhland) 

THREE hunters went thrashing about with 
their brag ; 
They were going (so said they) to hunt the white 
stag. 

But soon they lay down in the shade of a tree, 
And each had a dream, as you'll presently see. 

(The first) 
I dreamed I was bustling about in the brush, 
When, away went the stag through the woods with 
a rush. 

(The second) 
And as he flew by with the clash and the clang 
Of hounds, I let drive with my rifle — ker-bang ! 

(The third) 
When there on the turf the stag bleeding I saw, 
I dreamed that I tooted my horn, tra-ra ! 
[135] 



THE POEMS OF 

They scarcely had finished relating their dream, 
When the stag with his antlers went by like a 
gleam ! 

And ere the three dreamers aroused from the thrill, 
A white stag went vanishing over the hill, 
With a " rush," and a " bang," " tra-ra ! " 






[136] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



THE BALLAD OF THE YOUNG WOODMAN 



L ] 



" 1 ISTEN, dear Mother, what call do I hear ? " 

(Oh, the wind in the pine !) 
" It is nothing, Fair Alice, but the falls and the 
wier." 

(And the lamp it is low.) 



"Mother, what was it that flashed through the 

night ? " 

(Oh, the wind in the pine !) 
"It was nothing, Fair Alice, but the beacon so 
bright." 

(And the lamp it is low.) 

"What awful thing, Mother, lies stark at the 
door ? " 

(Oh, the wind in the pine !) 
" 'Tis the mantle, Fair Alice, the young Woodman 
wore." 

(And the lamp it is low.) 
[137] 



THE POEMS OF 

" What is it, dear Mother, they bear on the pall ? " 
(Oh, the wind in the pine !) 

" 'Tis the Woodman, Fair Alice, the young Wood- 
man tall." 

(And the lamp it is low.) 

She has knelt by the pall, and she's kissed where 
they shot. 

(Oh, the wind in the pine !) 
They chide and they call, but her lips answer not. 

(And the lamp it is low.) 



[U8] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



TO JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 

OPOET, to whom the sweet spirit of child- 
, hood 
Has whispered its secrets of pleasure and pain ; 
Who knows all the pathways of pasture and wild- 
wood ; 
Whose poems are fresh with the dew and the 
rain; 

I cannot refrain till the grass is green over thee 
To tell thee I love thee, and follow thee close 
Through orchard and meadow, while summer skies 
hover thee, — 
By brook, and through woods where the " pizen 
vine " grows. 

I lie down and sleep under trees of thy making ; 
I ride with Doc Siphers along country lanes ; 
At springs of thy spirit my thirst I am slaking ; 
I laugh with thy laughter and ache with thy 
pains. 

[ J 39 ] 



THE POEMS OF 

Let's wander by Deer Creek " knee-deep " in June 
weather ; 
Let's dream through the spring to the fall of the 
year; 
Let's "tromp" through the fields till our hearts 
grow together ; 
Let's hunt for each other below the veneer. 

O, perfect in speech of the deep, lying passions ! 

O, deft with the touch that is vital and warm ! 
"With a wit that is like a Damascus blade flashing, 

And a heart where all childhood is housed from 
the storm ! 

I'm sent by the heart of the People, whose portals 
Are open to thee. I dip in the wine 

My laurel, and crown thee among the immortals. 
Thy brows are right worthy ; the laurel is thine. 



[ Ho] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



FAITH AND DOUBT 

FAITH and doubt— the two great millstones, 
Where the races have been ground 
Since time began. 
Faith the upper, doubt the lower, — 

And between them, round and round, 
The heart of Man. 



[Mi] 



THE POEMS OF 



TO MY FRIEND 

MY spirit give I unto thee, 
In double portion, O my friend ; 
And when the flames shall drink the sea, 

And God shall call time at an end, 
My spirit still shall be with thee 
In double portion, O my friend. 



[142] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



HEARTSEASE AND RUE 

BECAUSE on days so long and sweet, 
Because on nights so starry bright, 
When life and love flowed round my feet 
With gifts exceeding thought and sight ; 
Because from blooming heartsease then I kissed the 

dew, 
I will not mar the memory now by plucking rue. 



[143] 



THE POEMS OF 



A 



A CHIGGEK ON GOETHE 
CHIGGER on Goethe, ah me ! 



A little red chigger, 
That, being no bigger, 
Can be just a chigger, par di ! 

Did Goethe break hearts ? ah me ! 
If that cuts a fig're, 
Let's ask the poor chigger, 

Did he break a heart ? poor he ! 



[ 144] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



Six Quatrains 



THE VISION OF DANTE 

THE crystal sweets of many tears 
Sobbed through a heart by grief made pure ; 
As boulders ache a million years, 
Then break, and lo ! the Kohinoor. 



[M5] 



THE POEMS OF 



AUTUMN LEAVES 

YE are prophets of death, of the grave and its 
cold ; 
But ye whisper of peaceful sleep under the mould, 
Of sorrows forgotten in heaven's warm fold, 
And ye shower down on me God's love with your 
gold. 



[146] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



AMRITA 

WHERE Laughter rollicks in the vat, 
Men drink, and call the draught divine 
But true Amrita only flows 

Where Sorrow's feet compel the wine. 



[147] 



THE POEMS OF 



THE HEAET AND THE BRAIN 

THE poet's heart, like ocean's heaving surge, 
Beats on the brain with its tumultuous roar ; 
The poet's brain, like ocean's rocky verge, 
Beats back the heart in music evermore. 



[148] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



THE PRICE 

IF you will sell me one small thing ; — 
If you will buy both place and pelf, 
And hear your name to welkin ring, 
Why, walk up quick ; the price is — self. 



[ J 49] 



THE POEMS OF 



FATE 

THE blind fates spin, year out year in. 
And yet, 'tis purpose clips the cord ; 
For he who stands and guides the hands, 
Within the shadow, is the Lord. 



[i5o] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



Poems Written in the Dark Days 



"DAS EWIG WEIBLICHE" 

" T~"\ AS ewig Weibliche," that's you, Beloved. 
JL>/ Here Goethe swept the master chords of 

song, 
And poured a theme whose sweetest notes be- 
long 
Unto a realm from mortal ear removed. 

" Das ewig Weibliche," my lips repeat ; 
And yet I know my thought shall never mount 
Unto its whole significance, — the fount 
From which it draws its golden draught so sweet. 

" Das ewig Weibliche," — 'tis interknit 

With every thought that moves in mortal brain. 

All boats set sail for its enchanted shore ; 
All Rainbow Bridges do but cross to it ; 

It gave us Christ with all th' immortal train ; 

'Tis this that we shall follow evermore. 

[I5i] 



THE POEMS OF 



IT IS NOT GOOD FOR MAN TO BE ALONE 

IT is not good for man to be alone. 
The clock will tick it off at dead of night ; 
'Tis written on the noonday like a blight — 
It is not good for man to be alone. 
The weary minutes in their leaden flight 

Drag by me like some time-worn bitter crone, 
That mumbles in a dreary monotone, 
" It is not good for man to be alone." 

O, loved one, hear me while I pray a prayer. 

I pray that God may bring thee back to health. 

I pray thee, O Great God, I pray thee, spare 
My loved one to me, — pray thee, let us share 

Full many a year of love in all its wealth. 

I pray the angels all to aid this prayer. 






[152] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



AVALON 

" I am going a long way 
To the island- valley of Avalon, 
Where I will heal me of my grievous wound." 
— The Passing of Arthur. 

WITHOUT you, Dear, I lack one half my force ; 
In speed, a limb,— in work, an eye, an arm. 
Without you each delight doth lack a charm, — 
The sanction of a smile ; in sweet discourse, 
Appreciation of a thought. O, source 
Of that rare breath that makes me swarm 
With Hybla bees ! God save from this alarm, 
And bring you back again from Avalon's shores. 

" When we do meet again, why we shall smile," 
And chide in sweet rebuke all traitor fears. 
We'll wander back and go o'er, mile by mile, 
This riven road, and blot out all the tears. 
We'll taste unbroken comradeship a while — 
For years, please God, and then beyond the 
years. 

[153] 



THE POEMS OF 



PKAYEK 

I DRAW on the springs of Life, 
Lay hold on the roots of God ; 
To aid in my spirit's strife, 

All saints that life's path have trod 

Shall fall into line and bring 
To bear on Jehovah's throne 

Their prayers with mine, shall cling 
To Jehovah's skirts and groan 

With groans that cannot be expressed. 
I marshall the angels all, 



And they come at my behest 
To strengthen my spirit's c 



call. 



What cry dost thou hark, O Christ ? 

The cry of the thief on the Cross ? 
Has my need not sufficed 

To break a decree across ? 
[154] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

I have left not a loving lip 

Whose prayer I've not bound unto mine ; 
I have fastened the ultimate grip 

Of prayer on the ear Divine. 

If heaven be taken by force, 

If Jehovah e'er yield to men, 
I enlist me without recourse, 

Yea, world without end. Amen. 



['55] 



THE POEMS OF 



O GOD, BE BOUNTIFUL TO ME 

OGOD, be bountiful to me ! 
Be pitiful, I oft have prayed, 
In time of need have cried for aid ; 
But now I ask large things of thee — 
O God, be bountiful to me ! 



O God, be bountiful to me ! 

Why should I shame thy countless store 
By picking crumbs from off the floor ? 

As son, I ask my legacy. 

O God, be bountiful to me ! 



God, be bountiful to me ! 

As ravens cry for foulest flesh, 
Thy children cry for toys and trash ; 

1 prove my vast belief in thee : 
O God, be bountiful to me ! 

[156] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 

O God, be bountiful to me ! 

Not as a slave I kneel and pray ; 

Not as a beggar by the way ; 
A kingdom here I ask of thee : 
God, be bountiful to me ! 



[157] 



THE POEMS OP 



THE ANGELS OF LIFE 

MY hands will tire 
When my pulse is low ; 
They lose their grip, 
Their hold will slip ; 
But angels of life, they stand by me 
And stay my hands while I pray for thee, 
And they never tire, no, no ! 

O, angels of life, 

They love thee so ! 

They dip their wings 

In healing springs, 

Then come and camp about thy bed, 

And fold their wings about thy head, 

And they never tire, no, no ! 

O, cling, Sweetheart ! 
You will I know, — 
Or rather, sink 
As a seed will sink 

To the life-giving bosom of the waiting soil ; — 
The angels will save thee all the toil, 
And they never tire, no, no ! 
[158] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



SEPTEMBER 11, 1910 



THERE'S something strange about the house 
It seems to hold its breath, 
As straining with some secret vast 
Of life, or, maybe, death, — 

A friendly bending of the walls, 

A striving to express 
Some prophecy they'd fain reveal — 

Some blessing in excess. 

Were I to trust my beating heart, — 

Guess what it's hinting of, 
I'd say the tides of life have turned 

To her I call my Love. 



[159] 



THE POEMS OF 



BEHOLD, I WILL DELIVER THEE 

THE jubilee ! the jubilee ! 
(The tides have told it to the sea) 
The jubilee ! the jubilee ! 
" Behold, I will deliver thee." 

The jubilee ! the jubilee ! 

(It sweeps the wood from tree to tree) 

The jubilee ! the jubilee ! 

" Behold, I will deliver thee." 

The jubilee ! the jubilee ! 
(The angels cymbal it to me) 
The jubilee ! the jubilee ! 
" Behold, I will deliver thee." 









[160] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



QA IRA 

MY youth was a rose that drank the dew 
In a garden fair where heartsease grew ; 
But age has come, and youth has fled, 
And the bush is bare and the rose is dead ; 
But about me youth goes on and on, 
About me youth goes gaily on. 

My joy was like a meteor bright 

That gladdened the earth on a summer night. 

It burned its heart out spark by spark, 

And left me guessing in the dark ; 

But about me joy goes on and on, 

About me joy goes ever on. 

My love was like a radiant star 
That shed its light through the dark afar ; 
A cloud has closed about my love ; 
All starless is yon vault above ; 
But about me love goes on and on, 
About me love goes ever on. 
[161] 



THE POEMS OF 

And death — what a joke ! I laughed, ha, ha ! 
And tossed him a kiss with a gay " ta, ta ! " 
But Death has hung his scythe by mjr door, 
And my laugh is a cry, and my heart is sore ; 
But about me life goes on and on, 
Yes, life and love and youth go on. 

Then I look away from the grave-strewn earth, 
"Where requiems haunt every sound of mirth, 
And see up the way that ends in air 
An amaranth sweet in a garden fair, 
Where love, our love, goes on and on, — 
Through all eternity blooms on. 



[162] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



NEAR THE PRECIPICE 

MY soul is walking near the precipice ; 
I parley with the voices from below. 
What agony can be surpassing this 
That gnaws and feeds, while still my vitals grow ? 

I lean and toy with life's uncertain brink, 
And feel that I might like the dizzy lunge. 

I run my hand along each narrow link 
That stays me from the dark Lethean plunge ; — 

I lean and listen down the dread abyss ; 

A Babel greets my straining eye and ear ; 
The ways fade out in tangled hit-and-miss ; 

No voice, no path, no beck'ning light, is clear. 

My aching heart is torn with murky fears ; 

Above, below, before, behind, is dark. 
I yearn for one sweet voice to greet my ears ; — 

For thy sweet voice, O Love, I strain and hark. 
[163] 



THE POEMS OF 

Keach down, O shadowy hand, and lead me home. 

O Love, come near and let me lean on thee ! 
I can't (Canst thou ?) pierce yon unyielding dome ! 

O Love, break through and reach a hand to me. 

Thou sendest back no answer to my cry ! 

Hast thou gone back to dust, O mighty soul ? 
O God ! give me some word, or else I die ! 

Must I delve on in dark, a sightless mole ? 

I'm certain of but one thing only— pain ! 

Is pain the flower that grows on love's sweet stem ? 
Is all the bloom that follows summer rain 

But Death's sly snare ? a flower-hid stratagem ? 



[164] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



LOVERS' LANE 

O LOVERS' LANE with haunting charm, 
» "Where spring and summer wed ; 
Who comes here once will come again, 
While happy hours are sped. 

What shadowy forms with hint of wings ! 

What silvery laughter there ! 
What beckoning hands like fairy wands ! 

What fragrance in the air ! 

The wood-thrush pours his vesper song 

To ears that love attunes ; 
Their burning hearts are drunk with joy ; 

The earth beneath them swoons. 

At night the star-beams tangle there 

In happy drops of dew ; 
The moon in benediction beams 

To make the vows more true. 
[165] 



THE POEMS OF 

Long years in joy I walked the shades, 
Sweet shades, of Lovers' Lane ; 

But at the end I found a grave, 
And in my heart a pain. 



[166] 



LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



THE HEART KNOWETH ITS OWN 
BITTERNESS 

(Prov. xiv. 10.) 

YEA, gall is sweet to what the heart 
In bitterest moment knows ; 
The rankling pain of poison dart 
Is laughter to its throes ; 

The best our nearest friend can do, 

Is but to dimly guess ; 
Heart's labyrinth is without clew, — 

It knoweth its own bitterness. 



[167] 



POEMS OF LEROY TITUS WEEKS 



s 



DESPAIR 
WEET night is a gift of gentleness, — 



A life-renewing spring. 
But this black weft entangling me 
Is a raven vast with dead'ning wing, 

And a croak like a troubled sea ; 
An eye that pierces the gloom, like the sting 
Of Mthhoggr, the tooth of death, 
That nicks the thread and stops the breath, — 
A dark and deadly thing. 

Oh ! what shall deliver my shrinking soul ? 
O, what shall pierce the pall 

Of the horrible wings that more and more 
Shroud in, while my senses crawl ? 

The black wings flap, as my lips implore ; 
(They shed the wormwood and the gall) 
I cry, and the hollow echoes drown 
My cry, and the empty laugh of a clown 
Mocks back from a vacuous hall. 



[168] 



JUL 12 1911 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 

JUL 24 !'* 




• IMI 



I 




111 



